by Rebecca York
“What could you possibly tell me that’s still of interest?”
“How about—your thug’s getting our phone number from Lydia was a setup. We already knew who you were before you ‘forced’ her to talk.”
“Oh come on. There’s no way you could have figured out my identity.”
“Sorry. You hid your trail, but not well enough. When Brady combed back through John Ridgeway’s e-mail, he found some correspondence with a company called Executive Traders.”
She saw a flash of reaction on the Paladin’s face.
“From the messages, it looked like John wanted to buy computer software, but that’s not what the company sells. That was a mistake on your part.”
Hancock cursed under his breath.
“Brady began investigating the company officers, and you fit our specs for the Paladin. As soon as we knew who you were, we started setting up this location. Everything at this meeting is being videotaped. If you shoot me, the tape goes right to the police and the FBI—with the name Charles Hancock attached—along with an account of your clone scheme.”
“You’re bluffing,” he spat out. “I’ve had my men all over this bridge. There’s no recording equipment here.” But he didn’t sound as sure of himself as he had been a few minutes earlier.
“The cameras aren’t on the bridge.” She gestured toward the houses on the cliffs above the river on the Virginia side. “We told the homeowners we were covert government agents running a sting operation. They were very happy to cooperate. The cameras are in their windows, and you’re facing right toward them. Nice of you to approach from Maryland. But then we assumed you wouldn’t let me have my first choice.”
The gun in Hancock’s hand wavered.
They’d been alone high above the river. Suddenly hooks clanked over the steel railings, and a group of figures began clambering up.
They were dressed in silver-gray jumpsuits with hoods, their outfits blending perfectly with the wide steel girders supporting the structure of the bridge so that they had been virtually invisible as they’d waited below the meeting place.
Brady, Max Dakota, Jed Prentiss and a fourth man whose face was covered surrounded the Paladin, just as the helicopters above them came swooping down.
Hancock waved frantically at the chopper hovering overhead. “Get me out of this,” he shouted, although there was no way for the pilot to hear him.
Before the helicopter could get any closer, the Light Street men aimed machine guns upward and began firing. As bullets whizzed around him, the chopper pilot decided he hadn’t signed up for a suicide mission and pulled abruptly away.
“No, come back!” Hancock screamed after the departing machine. When he saw they were leaving him, he darted forward, grabbed Grace and backed up, so that he was pressed against the railing.
“Come any closer and she dies.”
As she felt the cold steel of a gun barrel against her neck, Grace’s eyes met Brady’s.
“Back up,” Hancock shouted.
Brady and the Light Street men obeyed.
Could she dive for the surface of the bridge? Throw Hancock off balance? Or was her best bet waiting this out?
She knew from Brady’s expression that he was trying to tell her something, but she didn’t know what it was. Time stretched as the longest seconds of her life ticked by. Perhaps the last seconds. She saw the anguish on Brady’s face, knew that he wanted to throw himself at Hancock. But that would only get her shot, so he stood frozen in place.
The fourth man who had come up from the underside of the structure started to pull off his hood as he took a step forward.
“Don’t move. Stay back,” Hancock shouted.
The man stopped walking but continued to remove the hood.
When the Paladin saw his face, he gasped, and Grace felt a shiver go through him. “No. You’re dead,” he whispered.
“You wish I were.”
It was Kevin, wearing makeup, doing his John Ridgeway impersonation again, and Hancock was too off balance to realize it might be the man’s clone.
“Stay back. If anything happens to me, my men will still go after the clones,” he shouted. “I mean the ones who have the trackers.”
Kevin ignored him, speaking as though he were John Ridgeway. “Why should I care about that? When you denied my request for a transplant, what did you think would happen?” he demanded, his voice edged with anger. “I guess you didn’t consider that I’d stage my death so I could get to you.”
“No,” Hancock wheezed.
With the man’s focus on Kevin, Grace wrenched out of the Paladin’s grasp and rolled away, praying that he wasn’t going to shoot her.
It was clear she’d become a minor distraction. Hancock’s full attention was on Kevin as he aimed his gun at the clone. “Stay back or I’ll shoot.”
“We want to take him alive,” Brady warned.
“Never!” Hancock shouted.
As Grace watched in horror, the Paladin turned and vaulted over the railing. Both she and Kevin made a grab for him, but it was too late. His scream echoed through the river valley as he plunged toward the rocks below.
They all stood in stunned silence. The man would have hunted her down to the ends of the earth, but when he knew he had lost, he took control of his destiny.
The first to speak was Kevin. “Good riddance. I made him think I was angry about his denying Ridgeway’s request, but it was his whole nasty scheme that turned my stomach.”
Grace had started shaking, and Brady rushed to her side and pulled her close. “You were magnificent,” he said.
“I was scared.”
“So was I,” he admitted. “For you.”
“And I was scared for you. I was afraid Hancock’s men would see you getting into position.”
“We used an ‘auto accident’ to block off the bridge for ten minutes. That was all the time we needed.”
Still hardly able to believe she was free of the Paladin, Grace watched the Light Street team begin to remove their equipment from the bridge.
Wickers had joined the group. “Impressive work,” he said.
Kevin nodded in agreement, then reminded them that the mission wasn’t over. “We need his computer to get the names of the clones who have the transmitters.”
Phil Yarborough, one of Wickers’s operatives, had joined them. “His men have already killed some of them,” he said dismissively.
Grace gave him a narrow-eyed look. She’d seen him around the Ridgeway Consortium, and she’d never liked him. Now he was confirming her opinion.
“Including Barbara Frazier,” Wickers said.
“What?” she gasped. “She’s no clone.”
“But Hancock’s men didn’t know that.”
Grace started to say more, but Brady gave her a warning look and she clamped her lips shut.
“How did that happen?” Brady demanded.
Wickers gave him a satisfied look. “When you explained that she was the mastermind behind the plot to kill John Ridgeway to clear the way for her husband’s taking over the Ridgeway Consortium, I started thinking about poetic justice.”
Yarborough took up the narrative. “We got to one of the dead clones and removed the transmitter. Then we had the transmitter transferred to Barbara Frazier’s purse.”
“Hancock’s men tracked it. They didn’t know it wasn’t actually on her person. But it proves that they’re still out there operating.”
Grace stared at him, stunned, as she took in the cold-blooded comment.
It was Brady who finally spoke. “We didn’t hear anything about it on the news.”
“I had it kept quiet,” Wickers said. “Out of respect for her husband.”
“Yeah.”
“We’d better get that list,” Grace said.
“Hancock’s estate is fortified. What if we meet resistance?” Kevin asked.
Yarborough answered, “His men were here because this is where he needed them. And he expected to come back victorious.
”
“Still,” Brady said, “there could be guards waiting for us.” He looked at Grace. “I’m not letting you get anywhere near the place until we know it’s safe.”
“Not acceptable. As soon as news of his death hits, the estate will be sealed, and we’ll never get the names.”
“It’s probably safe enough now,” Wickers answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The men who came in the helicopter saw him kill himself. Without him, there’s nothing for them to protect. They’d bail out—to save themselves.”
The conversation was interrupted by Max, who came trotting back from the far side of the bridge. “I have something you need,” he said holding out his hand. “The remote that opens his gate.”
Yarborough reached for it. “I’ll take that.”
“You’re coming with us?” Brady asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
BRADY SLUNG HIS arm around Grace’s waist and led her back the way she’d come a few minutes ago, thankful that she hadn’t gotten hurt—or worse. They stayed close together. When he clasped her hand tightly, she squeezed back. He wanted to turn and kiss her, to tell the world that she belonged to him, but he knew the Light Street men and Kevin were right behind them, and he knew she’d be embarrassed by such a bold display.
They went in two cars, with the Ridgeway guys roaring into the lead.
“They’re acting like this is their operation,” Kevin muttered.
Brady was equally annoyed, but he’d worked with Wickers before and he knew the man had a tendency to take over. With effort, he kept his voice even. “We can use the help.”
They followed the lead car toward the Hancock estate. Yarborough, who was driving, pulled up at the gate. Brady assumed he was using the remote, but it didn’t seem to work, so he and Wickers got out and approached the controls that were on a nearby post.
When Brady started to get out, Grace put a hand on his arm. “They were so hot to take over, let them do it.”
He gave her a questioning look.
“Stay with me,” she whispered.
The urgency in her voice kept him beside her.
After a brief consultation, Yarborough strode back to the rear of his car and opened the trunk. Moments later, he was back with a crowbar with which he attacked the gate-locking mechanism.
As they tugged on the pry bar, a volley of shots rang out, and they fell to the ground.
“Down,” Brady shouted, pushing Grace toward the floor of the car and throwing himself on top of her. Long seconds passed with no more shooting.
Finally, they stirred.
“Everyone all right?” Brady called out.
Grace and Kevin both answered in the affirmative.
“Stay down.”
When he looked out the window, he saw two bullet-riddled bodies sprawled in a pool of blood. Contrary to his orders, Grace was sitting up, following his gaze.
“Are they dead?” she whispered.
“Looks like it.”
Brady eased the door open.
“Don’t go out,” she begged, fear piercing her voice.
“We can’t stay here forever.” He kept low and dashed to the side of the stone gatepost.
Still, his heart was pounding as he raised up to have a look at the control panel. After studying the keypad, he pressed a button and ducked back around the post.
But this time, the gate opened and there were no shots.
“What happened?” Kevin asked as he got out of the car.
“I think the fire was from an automatic system designed to kick in if the remote was used without pressing the all-clear button.”
Grace joined them and asked, “How did you know which button to push?”
“I’m an electronics expert, remember?” He pulled out his phone and called Max Dakota. “We ran into a little problem at the Hancock estate. Can you send some reinforcements?” he asked, then explained what had happened.
Grace looked out at the dead men on the ground.
Brady followed her gaze, then reached for her hand and held on tight. “That could have been me. How did you know?”
“After you left to go down to the bridge, I kept reading up on Hancock. I…knew he was super security conscious. And he liked to be tricky.”
“But you went to the meeting anyway.”
“I had to.”
He swallowed and tightened his grip on her hand, longing to take her off somewhere alone. But they still had work to do.
They waited beyond the gate until several of the Light Street men showed up, then all proceeded cautiously up the driveway.
“Stay here,” Brady said again when they reached the house.
She shook her head. “I’m going to take the same risks as you.”
Before he could stop her, she climbed out of the car, her gun in her hand, and he hurried to get in front of her, also with his weapon drawn.
At least he got inside the door first. Behind him, he heard Kevin say, “Let’s not get in the way of the professionals.”
It was so much like one of John’s comments that Brady wanted to turn around and grin, but he kept his vision—and his mind—on the task.
He and the Light Street men hurried through the house, making sure it was clear and that there were no booby traps. It seemed Wickers had been right about the security force. They’d melted away when their boss had jumped off the bridge.
Brady came back to the front hall. “All clear.”
“I want the names of the clones,” Kevin said in a tight voice. Grace nodded in agreement.
Brady led them back to the Paladin’s office, where a computer sat on the desk.
“Is it password protected?” Grace asked.
“Maybe.” Brady sat down and touched the keyboard, then made a tsking sound. “But he thought he was coming right back, so he left it on for us.”
“Sweet of him,” Grace murmured.
He began searching the files. Because computer hacking was his specialty, it took only a few minutes for him to find what they were looking for.
“I’ve got it,” he announced.
“Thank God,” Kevin answered. “We’ve got to get to them as soon as possible.”
“You really think Hancock’s still got men looking for them?” Max Dakota asked.
“For their sakes, we have to assume he was telling the truth about that,” Grace said.
“Why would they do it—if they didn’t even come back here to defend him?” Kevin argued.
“He could have convinced them that the clones would come after them. Or he could have set up a bank account that pays out every time they provide proof of death,” Brady answered.
“You’ve been thinking about it.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you have the resources of the Light Street Detective Agency,” Max said.
“Can we start looking for them now?” Grace asked anxiously.
Max gave her a sympathetic look, then addressed Brady. “Send the computer file to Light Street, and we’ll get right on it.”
“Thank you,” Grace breathed.
It was getting light when they left the estate. As they drove back toward the bridge, Brady heard police sirens.
“I guess someone’s discovered the body,” Grace murmured.
“Or maybe just the car on the Maryland side, where parking is illegal. They’ll want to know what it’s doing there.”
“What’s next?” Kevin asked.
“Why don’t you wait for us at the safe house where Grace did her prep work?” Brady suggested. “That’s probably the best thing for now—until things shake out a bit.”
As Kevin looked at him, time stretched taut. Finally the young man said, “Sure. I’ll be waiting for your call.”
Brady eased out a breath. He’d wondered if John’s clone would listen to him. It seemed that he would.
They settled Kevin at the safe house. Grace waited in the living room while the two men spoke. He also made a quick, private phone call.
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“I hope Kevin will be okay,” he said as they climbed back into the car.
“He’s taking your advice,” Grace answered. “That should help.” She cleared her throat. “You’ve got a chance to reverse your roles. Now you’re the older brother.”
He gave her a startled look. “Is it so obvious I was hoping for something like that?”
“No. But we were both thinking it. You have a lot to offer him.”
“I hope so.”
As they headed for Connecticut Avenue, he saw the tension in Grace’s shoulders. Probably she thought they were returning to his apartment, but he didn’t want any bad memories to interfere with the conversation he meant to have. Instead, he turned on Woodley Road.
When they pulled up at the Marriott Wardman Park, Grace gave him a questioning look.
“I haven’t had a chance to get my apartment cleaned—since we tied up those thugs.”
“That seems like a million years ago.”
“We can stay here for a few days,” he said, as he ushered her to the front desk, where he’d already made arrangements for accommodations in the elegant section of the hotel—the original Wardman Towers, that had been built early in the previous century.
When she stepped into a small suite with high ceilings and Chippendale furniture, she sighed. “This is beautiful.”
“I was hoping you’d like it.”
“Isn’t it expensive?”
He laughed. “Apparently, I’m rich now. My brother left me a lot of money in his will. Probably to assuage his guilt at using me.”
He didn’t want to keep talking about John. He’d brought Grace here to be alone with her.
“Come here,” he said, reaching out and folding her into his arms. He held her tightly for heartbeats, then eased away, far enough so that he could look down into her questioning eyes.
“I love you,” he said.
Her breath caught. “You can love someone like me?”
“Like what?” he asked.
“A…clone.”
“Did you think that would make a difference to me?” he asked softly.
